


100 words of Good Omens

by a_la_grecque



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Eldritch genitals, F/F, First Kiss, Gen, Implausible Sex Positions, Implied sex pollen, M/M, Non-Explicit Rimming, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Nonnies might not be entirely to blame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-02 18:30:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20815721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_la_grecque/pseuds/a_la_grecque
Summary: Various short GO fills posted to FFA threads. Ratings from G-E, separate pairings/ratings/tags posted in chapter summaries13: slug sex: Gabriel/Sandalphon, implausible sex positions, M12: Crowley/Lucifer, burn, T11: Aziraphale/Crowley, jealousy, GA10: maximising kudos: Aziraphale/Crowley, Aziraphale has a vulva, Crowley was Raphael before he fell, cunnilingus, shameless pandering to popular tropes and fanon, E9: turned away from a party: Aziraphale/Crowley or Aziraphale & Crowley, GA8: kissing: Anathema Device/Sarah Young, first kisses, GA7: losing control of powers: Aziraphale/Crowley, rimming, M6: huggy drunks: Crowley/Satan|Lucifer, snake!Crowley, GA5: superpowered vulvas: Madame Tracy, Anathema, GA4: sexy statues: implied Crowley/Satan|Lucifer,GA3: reading aloud: Aziraphale/Crowley or Aziraphale & Crowley. Domestic fluff,GA2: Suggestive desserts: Implied sex pollen, implied Aziraphale/OMC, M1: Cock roulette: Aziraphale/Crowley, blowjobs, rimming, eldritch genitals,M/E





	1. 100 words of cock roulette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: https://www.oglaf.com/cockroulette/
> 
> Aziraphale needs Crowley's help with a problem he's experiencing. Aziraphale/Crowley, blowjobs, rimming, eldritch genitals
> 
> Rating: M/E

"Knock knock," Crowley announced, letting himself into the seemingly empty shop.

There was no answer, but he carried on anyway. There was a light on in the back room, and he found Aziraphale there. There was nothing unusual in the shop being closed at two o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon, but it was unusual to find Aziraphale sitting in his easy chair, wrapped in a hideous tartan dressing gown with his hair dishevelled and a sheen of sweat across his brow.

"So you, uh, needed my help with something?"

Aziraphale looked embarrassed. "Yes, you see, there was a little incident on my last visit to heaven-"

"An _incident_?"

"Yes, an incident and, well, maybe it's easier if I just show you." Aziraphale let the dressing gown fall away.

Crowley hissed in surprise and took a step back. Whatever was between Aziraphale's legs was throbbing wetly and looked angry. "What...what kind of incident, exactly."

"Well, if you must know, my dear boy, it was Gabriel and the Quartermaster and... I'm not sure exactly what they did, but here we are."

Here we are indeed. "Can't you just?" Crowley made an arcane gesture.

"Don't you think I've tried that? And no, miracles are no use."

"So you want me to?" Crowley repeated the gesture.

"You're very welcome to try, but I don't think it's going to be any use either."

Crowley did try, and it wasn't. But maybe he wasn't trying hard enough. The thing was obscene, no doubt about it, but he was a demon, after all. Obscenity rather went with the territory. His hips twitched involuntarily.  
" So, what _do_ you want me to do to help?"

Aziraphale's face fell. "I don't know, I just couldn't think of anyone else I could even ask."

Crowley did some quick maths in his head. "Wait a minute, how long have you been trying to deal with this lit- with this problem? I thought you last went up to heaven a week and a half ago."

Aziraphale blushed. "It wasn't exactly a... problem to start with. You see, it," he gestured downwards, "It _changes_. Everytime I... reach completion. As it were."

Crowley swallowed hard. "And now you can't...complete?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "And I've been trying for, for quite some time."

Crowley's hips were now moving entirely without his permission or control, taking him towards Aziraphale. "So you need me to...complete you?" His hand, also moving without permission, snaked out to touch Aziraphale's thigh.

Aziraphale gasped. "I suppose I do."

"You need the Serpent of Hell to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole?"

Aziraphale looked shocked but a little excited. "You can do that? With your human body?" he asked hopefully.

It turned out that he couldn't, in fact, do that with his human body. He could do other things though, like lick. And suck, at least in parts. He could nibble. He could wrap his hands around the monstrous shaft and stroke it. He was lost in the temptations of the flesh, for what could have been a few minutes or half a century. It was a form of worship, really, if he stopped to think about it, so he decided he wouldn't stop or think about it. At least not until Aziraphale's hands tangled in his hair and pushed him away.

"I'm so sorry, my dear, I just don't think this is going to work."

Crowley leaned his head against Aziraphale's soft thigh. "It... doesn't feel good? Not even a little bit."

Aziraphale bit his lip. "It feels like torture."

Crowley's face obviously didn't do as good a job of conveying nonchalance as he was telling it to, because the angel quickly followed it up with "Oh, it's not you, it's not you at all. I think I'm just too overstimulated. In fact, if we could just wait a little while it would really feel quite lovely..."

Crowley slid his hands over to grab Aziraphale's hips and pull him forwards, then reached around to cup his ample behind. "Well, there is something else we could try."

"But I've never... you can't mean... we couldn't possibly..."

Crowley raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh, of course I'm familiar with the process, my dear." Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'd just... rather be the batsman than the wicket keeper."

"Relax, angel." Crowley's tongue flickered between his lips. "I had something a little different in mind. Turn around and get on your knees."

Aziraphale's body was taut, like a bowstring. It surely wouldn't take long, it never had on anyone else he'd serviced.

Aziraphale's flesh quivered around his questing mouth, and Crowley smiled.

"Oh, oh G-"

"Um, angel?"

"Mmmpf"

"I think we've got a bigger problem to worry about."


	2. 100 words of suggestive desserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: Lick me: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angel_Delight#/media/File:Angel_Delight.jpg
> 
> Aziraphale indulging his hedonistic side. Implied sex pollen, implied Aziraphale/OMC  
Rating: M

It was a very exclusive sort of eating establishment, the kind you only found about by speaking to the right sort of people and even then you had to wait for months before they coud fit you in. Aziraphale had done just that, because it seemed like the right thing to do. Crowley mocked him mercilessly every time he mentioned it, but Aziraphale found there was pleasure of its own kind in the waiting, the anticipation, as well as the simple joy of doing the right thing. He had to admit though, dining with a demon who had no scruples about forcing a table to open up could be awfully convenient at times.

The angel stretched his hands above his head and flexed his shoulders, a reflex action that persisted even though he hadn't had corporeal wings in centuries. Months of waiting, and it been worth every second. The chef had lived up to his reputation, every mouthful was exquisite, the service was perfectly discreet.

"Nipples of Venus, sir?"

Lost in a reverie, Aziraphale didn't respond.

"It's a Venetian delicacy, sir. Speciality of the house. Can I t-"

Aziraphale closed his fingers around one of the plump treats. "Ah yes, Capezzoli di Venere, I've tasted these before."

He raised the pert confection to his lips, and took a dainty bite. Bitter cocoa, sweet chestnut, the slow burn of brandy creeping across his tongue. He crammed the rest of it into his mouth and savoured it. Some people might have described it as so good it was sinful, but Aziraphale knew better. It was ecstasy, it was truly divine, it was... gone all too soon.

So much better than the real thing, he reflected. A breast was just a breast, no hidden depths or heavenly delights to them. It had been an age since he'd had one of those in his mouth. It was never an idea that particularly appealed, but Crowley had talked him into it, back in the early days of their Arrangement. Something about how they should really experience all the pleasures of the flesh so they could understand how humans could be tempted... or saved, of course. Breasts were never his thing, but there were other parts which were more enjoyable.

A strange digression, he thought, absently licking away the thin layer of chocolate that had melted onto his fingers. Hedonistic indulgences were all well and good, but not so much the fleshy kind. The chocolate was too sweet tasted in isolation, sickly really, and there was just a hint of something else behind it, something that threatened to edge into unpleasantness. He reached for his wine to wash the taste away, and then the waiter was back.

He really must have been discreet, course after course and Aziraphale was only just now noticing how attractive he was. He looked delicious, almost edible. Lickable, at the very least. Aziraphale's face grew hot, and blood rushed to places where he didn't usually have places.

"Sir, that was the last part of our food service, but we do provide... other services here."

Aziraphale licked his lips.


	3. 100 words of reading aloud to someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jul/25/walking-helped-me-discover-the-slow-unfurling-joy-of-reading-books-aloud
> 
> Aziraphale reads to Crowley. Can be interpreted as Aziraphale/Crowley or Aziraphale & Crowley. Domestic fluff.  
Rating: GA

It was nice, having Crowley draped across his battered old sofa. Nice in the modern sense, something he could probably get used to. If he hadn't watched Crowley spending fifteen minutes arranging himself into the most artful pose he could think of, he might even have believed he could effortlessly blend in with the furniture. He was touched, really he was, that Crowley was trying to take an interest in the things he liked, but of course he was still Crowley, so he insisted that they read books that looked like they were purposely designed to be left behind in departure lounges.

He sighed, and busied himself with arranging his cocoa mug and blanket. Sharing a sofa with Crowley was like sharing one with a cat, once he got involved with your personal space you wouldn't be getting up for a while. He'd also mastered the art of taking up space, leaving Aziraphale just a small corner to wedge himself into.

He sighed more expansively, and said with mostly feigned irritation, "The publisher might as well have arranged for these to be distributed directly to charity shops. Why not cut out the poor book-purchasing middle man entirely and save us all-"

Crowley poked him in the arm with his foot. "Just get on with it, angel!"

Aziraphale opened the book, and started to read.


	4. 100 words of sexy statues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_g%C3%A9nie_du_mal and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuente_del_%C3%81ngel_Ca%C3%ADdo
> 
> Crowley secretly works as an artist's model instead of napping. Implied Crowley/Satan|Lucifer.  
Rating: GA

It's a commonly held belief that Crowley slept through almost the entirety of the nineteenth century. While he did nap through a couple of decades, the century long nap is an exaggeration. He's happy for people to believe he slept through it, because the truth is even more boring and that is that he spent several years of it in Belgium on a special operation.

Downstairs was working on something of a recruitment drive, and having finally cottoned onto the fact that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar (Beelzebub was particularly pleased with this discovery), they'd decided the best course of action was to tempt artists into creating more flattering representations of Lucifer in the hopes of winning over more souls for the cause. It wasn't exactly Crowley's idea of a good plan, a little too much individual effort involved for his taste, but he did appreciate the possibilities for knock on temptations reverberating down the years.

Lucifer couldn't possibly spare the time to do it himself, so there were a few of them on assignment as artist's models, Crowley had a brief pang of jealousy when he heard that someone was getting sent to Paris, but in the end he supposed it could be worse than Belgium. Probably.

The worst part should have been the endless posing and sitting around, but he didn't mind that part at all. He couldn't deny his deepest nature, give him a suitably warm rock and he could bask indefinitely. The worst part was actually the new body assignment, it wasn't to his taste at all - all heroic musculature and looming brows, and as for the horns... it was just a bit too _obvious_.

In the end he couldn't resist putting in just a tiny bit of influence of his own, convincing Guillaume to include the chains that he wore, and the apple that he still thought of as his finest work.

There were plenty of rumours drifting around the Royal Academy in Antwerp about the scandalous first attempt at a statue by Guillaume's younger brother, and the strong influence of his patron, the mysterious Meneer A. Zeerfel, but Crowley never did manage to track him down.

Lucifer got his revenge a few years later, forcing Crowley back into his earlier form and bringing him along for a rare personal appearance in Rome for a promising young Spanish artist. Luckily his boss still couldn't spare the time to be an artist's model, so their reenactment was an intense but mercifully brief affair, which the artist wrote off as a vivid and particularly inspirational dream.


	5. 100 words of vulvas with superpowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anasyrma#Apotropaic_effect_of_nakedness
> 
> Madame Tracy and Anathema trying to bond over the occult... and gardening. Basically gen, brief mentions of Anthema/Newt, nonsexual discussion of genitals
> 
> Rating: GA

Anathema was still getting used to what seemed to be a standing appointment these days, Madame Tracy popping round every few weeks for a cup of tea and a catch-up. It wasn't all bad though, having someone to chat to about the occult who wasn't a suggestible eleven year old or someone more interested in counting her nipples.

"Well you see there was this article in the Psychic Times about anasyrma-"

"An ass-what?"

"Anasyrma. It means exposing your genitals."

"Oh, you mean flashing."

"No, it's not like flashing. It's not sexual, it's actually a very magically powerful gesture."

"If you say so, love."

"Anyway, there was something in the article about menstruating women being able to drive pests away from the crops, and I noticed we had a bit of an infestation on the courgettes, so I thought... why not give it a try? And Newt just hit the roof about it."

"You walked around the garden naked? I'm not surprised he was a bit funny about that."

"Oh, I wasn't naked, of course the article suggested that you should be, but it was written by a man... I decided that no knickers under a maxi dress would do the trick just as well. After all, the courgettes would still be able to see I was exposing myself."

"Oh, well, maybe it was because you were on your monthlies? A lot of men get a bit strange about that."

"No, well, I don't think so. He's never been strange about that before. Strange about just about everything else, mind. His idea of a solution was to go out there and pee on them. Honestly, he heard something on Gardener's Question Time about peeing on the compost heap, and now a quick pee is the gardening cure all."

"That's men for you, love." Madame Tracy's shrug expressed all the world weariness one would expect from a retired jezebel.

"I suppose so."

"It's not really that much weirder though, is it, having a quick pee instead of flashing your veg."

Anathema was mildly exasperated at this point. Madame Tracy was not really the substitute parent figure she would have chosen, but surviving an apocalypse was an experience that tended to bond you to people. Not to mention the fact that her own mother had been awfully distant once she'd bucked the family expectations by surviving said apocalypse.

"It isn't the same as flashing. It's a very powerfully repellent gesture."

"Are you sure, love? In my experience it doesn't usually repel men. Quite the opposite, actually."

"It's not supposed to repel men, Tracy," said Anathema, through teeth that were, if not gritted, at least lightly salted. "It's for repelling evil spirits, demons and so on."

"Demons?" Madame Tracy liked to think that she hadn't suffered any lasting effects from playing host to Aziraphale, but she was accessorising with a jaunty tartan headband these days, and her thoughts turned more often than she would have expected to that snaky young man with the Bentley. "I suppose I can see how demons might be put off by it, right enough."*

Their conversation took a more prosaic turn after that, focusing on how to cope with day-to-day living with (ex) Witchfinders, and where you could find the cheapest occult supplies for mail order.

Adam read the same article a few weeks later when Anathema passed the magazine on to him, and he came back from the quarry one day with a fresh black eye, a load of buttons missing on his shirt and a tacit agreement with Pepper that they would never talk about That ever again.

Later that summer, Anathema's courgettes took first prize at the Tadfield summer fete.

*She was actually wrong about this, Crowley had made some extensive personal investigations into anasyrma as a method for cowing his houseplants.


	6. 100 words of being a huggy drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Blake%27s_illustrations_of_Paradise_Lost
> 
> Crowley makes the mistake of drinking and reminiscing with the boss. Crowley/Satan|Lucifer, snake!Crowley  
Rating: GA

If you'd asked Crowley beforehand, he would have told you that all the alcohol in hell wouldn't have convinced him to do it. He'd have told you that all the alcohol in the known universe wouldn't have convinced him to do it.

The only problem with that was that Crowley always vastly overestimated his own tolerance, and underestimated the quality of the vintages that the devil had at his disposal. One glass in and he was struck by how charming the boss could be, when he put his mind to it. Actually, genuinely charming, no compulsion needed. Just the soft summer light in his eyes and his voice dripping honey as he asked:

_ANOTHER GLASS, DARLING?_

By the end of the first bottle he was reminiscing freely about the bad old days, when it was just Lucifer and the guys and they had to make their own fun.

_YOU REMEMBER OUR LITTLE PARTY TRICK, CROWLEY?_

"Mmph." Best to be noncommital, although he remembered it all too well. The shame and humiliation. That. That, and the warmth. And how good it felt to be close to someone.

Two bottles in, and he didn't care that Hastur was apparently running a book on how long it would take him to give in. After the third bottle, he didn't even notice there was anyone else there.

_CAN YOU EVEN REMEMBER HOW TO DO IT, SERPENT?_

"Course I can." He remembered more besides, the feeling of scales rasping over warm earth, and warmer skin. "'s not the sort of thing you forget."

_NO. OH LOOK, YOUR GLASS IS EMPTY AGAIN._

Crowley caved before they got to the end of the next bottle.

"Might as well. Easy peasy. 'M fuckin' legless already, anyway"

He slid off the chair, and into the snake. It _was_ easy, easier than he'd have liked it to be. He couldn't quite tell if he was still drunk, or if it was just that everything was so much more immediate as the snake. More intense. More primal.

His tongue flicked out to taste the air, to taste _him_. Apples and smoke. Irresistible. He slithered over to wind himself around Lucifer's feet.

_OH, YOU REMEMBER_. He scratched the top of Crowley's head. _I KNEW YOU WOULD._

Crowley wrapped his tail securely around Lucifer's left ankle and began to inch his way upward. Lucifer's skin was warm and glowing, he could light up the whole of hell when he wanted to. Really, it was quite impossible not to bask in it.

He was dimly aware that the demons who weren't shooting daggers at Mammon as she collected her winnings (literal daggers, in some cases), were staring at Lucifer wearing him like a piece of prized couture. He knew he should care but couldn't actually bring himself to do it.

_HAPPY, DARLING?_

He searched desperately for any trace of compulsion, found none, hated himself a little for what he was about to do.

"Yessssssssss," he hissed, and coiled himself round Lucifer a little tighter.


	7. 100 words of characters with powers losing control of them during sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes Aziraphale lose control during sex. Aziraphale/Crowley, rimming
> 
> Rating: M

Crowley felt himself slowly suffused with a warm glow as he worked his eager tongue against Aziraphale's tender flesh. Satisfaction of a job well done, he supposed. It was rather nice, doing something selfless for a change, an act whose sole purpose was to bring joy to another. Really, it was the sort of thing he ought to do more oft-

He pulled back abruptly.

"For fuck's sake, angel," he hissed, slapping Aziraphale's quivering bottom for emphasis. "Are you... are you trying to make me be _good_?"

"Oh," gasped Aziraphale, "Oh, my dear! Not on purpose."


	8. 100 words of kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema and Sarah on a pub date. Anathema Device/Sarah Young, first kisses
> 
> Writing: GA

It seemed like any other sleepy Sunday evening in the World's End to Anathema, she and Sarah were chatting enthusiastically about topics ranging from Tantric rituals to crop circles, in much the same way they had been for the last few weeks as they cautiously negotiated the boundaries of whatever it was that was growing between them.

Perfectly normal until, as the landlord called time, Sarah leaned in and kissed her. It was just a brief kiss, even tucked behind the walls of the snug at anything longer would have risked catching the attention of one of the inveterate village gossips nursing pints at the bar. Even the quickest touch of Sarah's lips on hers was reassuringly competent.

"Sorry," Sarah said, "I just thought it was past time for one of us to do that." She grinned in a way that could only be described as impish. "Anyway, carry on with what you were saying about Gerald Gardner."

But Anathema found she had quite lost her train of thought.

They kissed properly a few minutes after that, tilting into each other in the shadows between the streetlights as they made their way out of the pub on slightly unsteady feet. This kiss was deep enough for Anathema to taste the remnants of hastily-downed cider sweet on Sarah's tongue, and leave her breathless as they murmured quiet goodbyes.

It took Anathema a couple of minutes to decide to chase her down, it still felt very new to be entirely responsible for her own decisions. She grew increasingly confident this was one she wouldn't regret as she kissed Sarah again, one hand holding Phaeton steady and the other tangled in Sarah's hair.


	9. 100 words of your fave being turned away from a party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: GRRM's Hugo Losers Party gone bad
> 
> Aziraphale and Crowley get turned away from an event, Crowley is displeased. Basically gen, could be read as Aziraphale/Crowley or Aziraphale& Crowley  
Rating: GA

"Look, Crowley, let's just leave it."

Aziraphale's hand on his arm was deceptively gentle, but he could feel the strength behind it. Evidently Aziraphale could sense his seething rage. As could the doorman, who was looking rather pale.

"But we have an invitation," Crowley growled through gritted teeth. "They should let us in. It's the principle of the thing," he said, conveniently ignoring the fact that they only had the invitation because he'd swiped it off some absentee executive's desk when he was supposed to be providing the persuasive force in a new reality tv pitch.

"Let's not make a scene, my dear." Aziraphale's fingers had turned to steel on his arm and the angel steered him away from the door even as he tried to twist out of his grip.

"But I made an effort." Crowley looked the angel up and down. "_You_ made an effort." It was true, the angel was looking unusually dapper in a tuxedo with lapels only a couple of decades away from being in fashion, and barely a speck of dust on it.

"Well, then we'll just have to go to the Ritz, I'm sure there won't be any problem with getting our usual table there."

"But it would be so easy to just..." Crowley waved his hand.

Aziraphale linked arms with him in a gesture that looked affectionate but felt like being caught in a bear trap. "There's no need for that," he said, "It looked like an absolutely dreadful party anyway."

He had failed, however, to account for the fact that Crowley still had a hand free.

"Fire safety regulations," Crowley muttered, "I'll give them fire safety regulations." A twist of the wrist was sufficient to disable the fire alarms, a quick movement of the fingers did for the sprinklers, and a subtle but complex arcane gesture was enough to kindle a tiny flame.


	10. 100 words of maximised kudos effort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly Aziraphale/Crowley smut. Aziraphale/Crowley, Aziraphale has a vulva, Crowley was Raphael before he fell, cunnilingus, shameless pandering to popular tropes and fanon  
Rating: E

Crowley sank to his knees between Aziraphale's chubby thighs and deftly slid aside his silky lingerie to caress the angel's sopping wet cunt with his long, slender fingers.

Aziraphale threw his head back in lustful abandon. It was shameful, sinful really to take advantage of the fallen angel's devotion in this way. Ineffable, really, it had to be. And it was just so delicious, better than a thousand champagne teas at the Ritz, better than the millefeuilles from that delightful little bakery around the corner from the bookshop, better than...

"O-oh," he gasped, his voice wobbling more than his ample flesh.

Crowley's long tongue flickered over his clit, teasingly gentle at first but growing ever more insistent.

"Oh... Raphael!"

The demon gazed up at him with reproachful golden eyes. "Not anymore, angel," he whispered sadly.


	11. Exactly 100 words of jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble prompt: Aziraphale/Crowley, jealousy
> 
> Rating: GA

Crowley's lurking with intent outside the bookshop. Not a skill he's proud of, but it comes naturally enough. Aziraphale cancelled again today. It's not that he minds missing a casual lunch between associates, but he'd found the perfect restaurant and got tickets for a matinee. His fists clench as the smiling young man leaves the bookshop. Crowley's tongue flicks out, tastes his satiated lust. This one's been around for too long. Crowley follows him down the street, his mind full of idle plots to cause pain and suffering. Hastur must be rubbing off on him, this time it'll be personal.


	12. Exactly 100 words of burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble Prompt: Crowley/Lucifer, burn
> 
> Crowley reporting on his evil deeds doesn't go quite to plan.
> 
> Rating: T

"They... they're named after you, my Lord." The full weight of Lucifer's gaze is on him and he can hardly breathe. He had a whole presentation prepared, necrotic jaws and children freezing to death in the street, but he can't get a word of it out. Lucifer shakes the little box of matches.

_INTERESTING, CROWLEY. AND YOU CAN STRIKE THEM... ANYWHERE?_

Crowley looks down and he's suddenly naked. Not naked under Lucifer's penetrating gaze, actually naked before the whole Council.

He knows objectively that matches can't actually ignite against his soft and delicate human flesh, but that won't stop Lucifer.


	13. 100 words of slug sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wG9qpZ89qzc
> 
> Gabriel has some very strange ideas about sexual practices. Gabriel/Sandalphon, implausible sex positions
> 
> Rating: M

Sandalphon had had misgivings about this entire project from the start. The prospect of needing to get more closely involved with earthly matters was unpleasant enough, and only became more so when coupled with Gabriel's ideas of what specific preparations they would need to undertake in order to blend in.

He'd had a feeling they were about to hit rock bottom when Gabriel had announced the next topic of study would be mating. For the most part he'd been happy to go along with Gabriel's ideas, he did have more experience with humans, after all. This particular area, though, was a bit of a blind spot, and some of Gabriel's best work had rather relied on it not happening at all.

Even at that stage he'd never imagined he'd be tangled around Gabriel as they slid down a rope of mucus that was being produced from somewhere he was trying not to think about. He hadn't started imagining that until Gabriel began describing the process to him. In detail.

"Are you _sure_ that's how it's supposed to work?" he'd asked.

"Absolutely," Gabriel had replied confidently, "Aziraphale showed the whole thing to me once in a performance review. He was very keen to get credit for it, for some reason. I guess it was nice to look at."

This had sounded odd to Sandalphon, even by Aziraphale's standards.

"Aziraphale showed you _humans_ doing this?"

"Oh no, not humans. Some other critters. Leopards or something. But they're kinda all built the same way."

Sandalphon's doubts had deepened considerably at this point.

"Gabriel, I really don't think-"

"C'mon, just give it a try. We've gotta be able to blend in."

Sandalphon had also been unsure about why any kind of mating might be necessary, but again it was a point Gabriel had been oddly insistent about.

"But, Gabriel," he'd said, in a last ditch effort, "I've seen some of the pornography, and none of it looked anything like this." He'd seen quite a lot of it, actually, purely in the interests of research, or course.

"Well, of course not, you idiot." Gabriel had started laughing at him at this point. "Everyone knows pornography isn't an accurate depiction of sexual behaviour. Now get over here and taste my mucus."

There was no arguing with that sort of tone, so he'd dutifully tasted the mucus. It had tasted vile, but must have done the trick, because here he was, hanging upside down and slowly rotating as he tried not to lose his grip on Gabriel's mucus-slicked torso. At least the nibbling part had been mercifully short.

"See, I think we've got this," Gabriel said, "Now the next step is us getting our male organs round behind our heads."

"Well, this is the bit that... Gabriel, I just don't think these bodies are capable of doing that."

"Speak for yourself, buddy." A grin spread wide across Gabriel's face, almost as wide as the corona of his sex organ as it delicately unfurled from behind his ears.


End file.
